Bookworm
by September's Nobara
Summary: A chance meeting in a bookstore for two bibliophiles. FMA and R.O.D. crossover.


**A/Ns: **Yay, first foray into the world of shojo-ai! This came to me when I was watching the FMA episode "_Marcoh's Notes_", and it snowballed from there to a crossover.

_Bookworm_: A chance meeting in a bookstore for two bibliophiles. FMA and R.O.D. crossover.

* * *

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" wafts from the front of the bookstore, catching the brown-haired woman's attention, causing her to glance away from the topmost shelf of the bookcase she reaches with the aid of a wheeled ladder. Through the dim lighting of the modestly sized room, the woman on the ladder doesn't notice the origin of the voice, tinged with an accent she can't quite place. She quickly shifts her moss-green eyes, engulfed in the size of her glasses, to the floor at the other end of the shelf, where she assumes the sound comes from.

"H-hello...?" The brown-haired woman asks hesitantly, nervously tightening her grip on the ladder and bookshelf.

"I'm sorry to bother you," the voice says, the melodious tinge of accent, a hint to the outside of the country, accompanying the words. "I received a call a few moments ago, about a book I'd reserved...?" The woman with the alluring voice says, walking toward the other who is self sequestered to the top of the bookshelf. She halts a step or three from the base of the ladder, looking upward with a small, eager smile on her own bespectacled face. Lost in though, it takes the woman atop the ladder a few moments to retrieve the information lodging in her mind.

"Ah!" Her eyes light up, along with the rest of her face, as she descends the ladder. "Of course," the woman from the ladder says, her name tag obscured in the relative dark of the back of the room as she walks toward the front of the store. "Yomiko Readman, right?" She asks as she slides behind the polished wooden table, home to a register and a small, cylindrical, revolving bookmark holder.

"Yes," the woman now identified as Yomiko answers, eyes resting on the shining silver name tag pinned to the dark green sweater worn by the brown-haired saleswoman; Scieszka.

"It's pronounced 'Sheska'," the woman behind the counter remarks with a smile on her face.

"Oh!" Yomiko murmurs, "I... I hadn't realized I'd been staring..." Her head droops, as does her voice's already low volume. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Scieszka says, laughing lightly, her voice muffled from being under the counter. "It's fine." She straightens up, holding a good-sized novel in her hands. "Miss Readman-ah-." Scieszka pauses, watches as Yomiko looks around at the shelves, displays, and walls full of books, peers toward the latter half of the back wall, _where the manga area's been increasing in shelf space, _Scieszka thinks, still observing the woman. _No wonder I couldn't see her earlier, _she muses, tilting her head in amusement, regarding the impervious camouflage of dark brown vest and long black skirt and flyaway ebony hair, reaching to her waist. "Miss Readman," Scieszka tries again, waiting for a moment when her customer faces her somewhat.

"Yes?" Yomiko responds in a detached manner, dreamily facing Scieszka with a smile. "Oh, that's right, the book..." Yomiko's smile becomes embarrassed, face a light pink shade. "I just love her work," she murmurs.

"Isn't she just wonderful? She published her first novel at thirteen," Scieszka gushes, a similar grin to Yomiko's on her face, though more devoted than dreaming.

Yomiko nods in agreement as she takes the book, a stray few finger brushing Scieszka's warm ones accidentally. Both women look away, in opposite directions, equivalent shades of pink ghosting over their faces.

"She has such beautiful imagery," Yomiko volunteers, eyes flickering to Scieszka, who matches her gaze for the second, then both land on the book in each other's hands.

"It's amazing, too, how she says so much with so few words," adds Scieszka, a faint smile accompanying the blush still evident on her cheeks, the heat from the older woman's hands seeming to fuel the growing warmth in both her voice and face.

"She's wonderful," their words lace over one another's, echoing and almost vibrato in quality. Heat radiates into the younger, dark green-eyed woman's hands, both of which are tingling to almost itching, and perspiring due to the presence of the accented woman's fingers. For a beat, neither can sense if either is breathing, and it seems as if the oxygen both appear to deprive themself of is lending itself to the near burning sensation the contact of hands causes, inflaming each.

_Ding-! _

Two people enter the previously silent bookstore, arguing loudly about whether or not to purchase one or two per cent milk, unheedingly giving patron and purveyor intangible permission to breathe.

The first to open her mouth, Yomiko draws an unnoticeable breath, accepting the book from the slackening fingers of Scieszka, who allows her arms to fall gently to her side. "H-how much do I owe you...?" Yomiko asks anxiously, tucking the novel under an arm while digging around in her pockets with fingers coated by a sheen of their own perspiration.

"About... about fifteen-ninety-five," Scieszka manages, small sips of air making their way in and out of her body.

"Here," Yomiko finally hands the required amount to the younger woman, gently dropping the bills into Scieszka's palm, the money the only connection between them. "Thank you very much."

"You're very welcome. When you're finished, tell me how you like it, okay?" Scieszka responds with a kind smile.

"O-of course. See you soon," Yomiko answers, grinning over her shoulder at the busy Scieszka as she leaves.

As the visits and subsequent book discussions continue, both consider their first conversation, wondering if it truly was about the author of the reserved book, or someone else entirely.


End file.
